


Of Heat Exchange, Energies.

by demonsonthemoon



Series: Conducting Symphonies. [1]
Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Orchestra, Blow Jobs, I don't write a lot of porn and it shows, I'm not the only one with weird ideas, M/M, because I was a terrible student in my MT classes, but i tried, more angst than should be strictly necessary considering this is supposed to be a happy fic, oh there is actually a tag for this, that's reassuring, vague as fuck references to music theory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-31
Updated: 2015-07-31
Packaged: 2018-04-12 06:06:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4468208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/demonsonthemoon/pseuds/demonsonthemoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermann Gottlieb, orchestra conductor, and Newton Geiszler, famous pianist, have worked with each other a few times, over the years. They have developed a routine.<br/>The routine involves bickering, a lot of sexual tension, confusion from other parties and post-concert resolution of aformentioned sexual tension.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Heat Exchange, Energies.

**Author's Note:**

> *Shows up two years late with Starbucks.*  
> Hey, Pacific Rim fandom, where you at?
> 
> This is my first published PacRim fic (though it's the second I've written) and it's dedicated to my super awesome beta-reader, lycanandproud on tumblr. Thanks for threatening me with terrible puns, Sarah.
> 
> Also, all of Newton's subby tendencies are mine, and I'm not sorry at all 'kay thanks bye.

_“I am all circuits and wires,_  
Conducting symphonies  
Of heat exchange, energies.” 

_\- “Cirtcuits and Wires”, by Motion City Soundtrack._

__  


« Okay, done. We'll stop here for now and focus on the third movement tomorrow. Bass section, keep up the good work. You were almost perfect, a wonderful improvement. Strings – Mr Choi, your crescendo started a bit too early, but you noticed it so I don't have much else to say. Alti, keep the volume down after the fifteenth bar. Keep the tune light, we want the piano and flutes to echo each other in that part. »

Hermann Gottlieb sighed, bracing himself as he turned towards the solist waiting behind his piano. He sighed at his appearance. The man's jeans were frayed at the knees and the t-shirt he was wearing sported the name of some kind of metal band. His hair was in a state a disarray that was unlikely to have been caused by nature

.  
« Mr. Geiszler. » The man beamed at him from behind his thick-framed glasses, fingers noiselessly running over the keys of the Bösendorfer. « I keep telling you the same thing. Your staccati in the twenty-first bar are still uneven. »

Geiszler frowned and held up a hand. « Wait a second there, Her- »

Hermann raised an eyebrow at the use of his first name and Geiszler immediately corrected himself.  
« -Gottlieb. »

He attached no title to the name, a way to show that while he accepted the importance that last names held for Hermann, he wasn't willing to sacrifice his disrespectful demeanor either.

« My rhythm was perfect in that part. »

Hermann had to grind his teeth. « Quite. But the volume of each note varied in audible ways. The bass is in charge of picking up the rhythm in this section, you need to keep a stable line. Like I told you two days ago. »

Geiszler rolled his eyes, hands moving over the ivory keys again. Hermann contracted his jaw instinctively, expecting the pianist to strike a loud chord as he usually did to punctuate his conversations. Fortunately, he decided to keep silent this time.

« I don't want to have to tell you again. »

Still no sound from the piano, so Hermann turned to the rest of the small orchestra, relieved. He didn't want to spend time arguing with Geiszler tonight. His leg was aching and every minute that he kept standing without his cane meant an enhanced risk of cramps and additional stretching to do.  
He loved conducting, he really did. Knowing he could take the notes, take the voice of each instrument, the talent of each musician, and turn it all into something else, change it to something better. There was no feeling that could rival that.

His father, a famous composer from the classical tradition, had been disappointed to hear about his role of choice in the machinery of music. He claimed that conductors never had a worthwhile reputation. Solists were remembered for decades. Compositors for centuries. Conductors were lucky to last a life-time.

Hermann didn't care. All he wanted was to be part of the music, and his job made him able to feel every single part of the melody like he was producing it. He wasn't just putting his talents to the service of the musicians. He was putting the talents of all musicians to the service of the listeners. It all passed through him, like energy flowing through a wire.

Which made people like Newton Geiszler all the more infuriating. The pianist was a disruption. An overload threatening to blow the harmony to pieces. An ore of talent so raw and powerful that it could eclipse anything else, if only it managed to be contained properly. Working with him was a terrifying challenge. Truly, the man was amazing. His technical prowess was unequaled in a generation, maybe two. His sense of emotion was often described as « mesmerizing ». But it was almost impossible to force him to put all of his talent in his work, almost impossible to get him to adjust to the ensemble just enough that the orchestra's production might exceed the worth of the sum of its parts. Most people couldn't keep up with Newton Geiszler. Today, it was Hermann's job to make sure that everybody in the room did.

Truly, he wouldn't trade his position for anything.

*****  


Newton Geiszler left his piano with a sigh, affectionately stroking the dark wood as he did. He looked up at where Hermann was gathering his things with a smile.

He didn't know any better conductor. Or, more appropriately, he didn't know of any conductor that worked this well with him. Hermann didn't treat him as royalty, or like his talent somehow made him as fragile as porcelain. He challenged him, pushed him harder, forced him to work in ways that usually made him uncomfortable. The man didn't create music around Newt, didn't let him shine for himself. He somehow managed to make every single of his musicians part of something bigger.  
Between rehearsals, Newt found himself looking forward to his biting words and glares, knowing that they fueled the emotions he could then translate into music.

The two of them knew each other. This was far from the first time they had worked together and probably far from the last. Over the years, they had developed a routine.

It had started four and a half years ago, when the two of them had learned they would be working with each other for the first time. Newt was doing some sort of homecoming tour in Germany before a series of concerts with the Deutsches Symphonie Orchester in Berlin. Both their reputations had preceded them, and Newt had contacted Hermann via his e-mail adress, wishing to tell the man how excited he was to finally get a chance to work under one of the best conductors of this generation. Hermann had responded in kind and shared his own excitement. They had quickly moved on from talking only about music to sharing some of their personal history. Newt missed his country of birth, so Hermann had talked about his time since he had moved to Berlin. In exchange, Newt had recounted a few anecdotes of his last tour through the US. The pianist had started an argument about the merits of Star Wars vs Star Trek, which Hermann had only half-willingly participated in. The conductor had forced Newt to listen to a series of contemporary compositors he liked.

Then they had finally met face-to-face. Hermann had obviously been surprised when Newton had come in wearing Doc Martens over his skinny jeans, hands huddled in an old grey sweater. Hermann had been wearing straight-cut pants over a pair of oxfords, with a collared shirt and a tartan sweater to complete the look. But Newt had to hand it to the man. Hermann hadn't flinched too noticeably. Newt was just a good observer.

(The conductor had visibly flinched the first time he had seen Newt wearing short sleeves. Tattoos of mythological monsters were apparently not his thing. His loss.)

Their first conversation... hadn't gone well. Vocal communication had left them devoid of protection against their instinctive verbal violence. They had clashed. On everything they could have clashed on. They had left each other feeling hurt, and still the disappointment outweighed the anger and their eyes crossed in wishes of what could have been. They had had their first rehearsal together the next day, and it had gone horribly. Newton had rejected every direction that went against his instinct and Hermann had grown more and more frustrated with every remark he had had to repeat, letting out his anger on the other members of the orchestra as well.

Newton smiled at the memories. Oh, how much he hated Hermann sometimes. They had continued to shout at each other and disapprove of their respective choices of clothing, but, after the first concert, they had also learned how to bring out the best in each other. Over the years, they had crossed paths again, until their technique in handling each other had been refined to something capable of producing almost perfection. That had been three years later, and also the time they had had their first kiss. The music had stopped, the curtain had fallen, the applause had been overwhelming. They had all saluted before packing up for the night's celebration. Newt and Hermann had passed each other in the hallway and grinned so widely that Newt hadn't been able to help himself and had grabbed Hermann by the wrist.

« It was amazing, righ ? » he had let out in a rush before noticing how Hermann had frozen when he had touched him, mouth open and eyes fixed on the pianist's lips. Newt had frozen in much the same way after that, until Hermann had closed the gap between them and pressed their lips together.  
Newt had quickly pulled him forward a little more, deepening the kiss. Then someone had bumped into him, making him lose his balance and shattering the moment. The two men had looked at each other for a while, Hermann slowly worrying his lower lip. Then they had gone on with their evening just as if nothing had happened. Still, a tension was born between the two, one that made things twice as interesting as before, one that quickly became a constant in their interactions. Up until the point when it was always relieved by great music and great making-out.

Yes, Newt and Hermann had a routine. And anybody who had known them both prior to their first kiss and after knew that the routine worked.

Newt finished packing up his music sheets and made his way off the stage. He exchanged a high-five with Tendo Choi, a violonist he had befriended the last time he had played with the Berlin Symphonic. They chatted together has they exited the building, until they ran into Hermann, who was quietly smoking a cigarette just outside the building, leaning on his cane.

« Those things will kill you, you know ? » Newt said, pointing at the cigarette and startling the conductor out of his reverie.

Hermann quickly took over his surprise and rolled his eyes. « If you don't do it first, I would assume. »

Newt held up his hands. « Wow. Whatever you say, man, my piano will never be that bad. »

Hermann smiled fondly, which made something twist inside Newt's stomach. It was a rare sight, one that was usually reserved to the quiet of a private room. The smile quickly turned into a condescending smirk.

« I do hope so. With what they pay you... »

Newt pulled out his tongue, all considerations of Hermann's cuteness put aside.

Tendo was still standing beside him, looking between the two of them with a confused set of eyebrows. He didn't comment until Newt and him had started to walk away again, though.

« You guys are weird. »

Newt shrugged.

*****  


Hermann felt his nerves tighten as the concert grew closer. His hip had been acting up for a while, sending thrills of pain down the whole length of his right leg. And then there had been the music itself, the way he was growing more and more insecure about the choices he had made in his direction of the last piece. The composition was modern, a challenge to work with, and he had opted for a sharp contrast between the melody and the different voices that made up the accompaniment. It was hard. The musicians weren't used to playing this way, and his own ear had trouble adjusting to the sharp dissonances of the partition.

He was stressed, more and more with each passing day. The anxiety made his muscles tense up, which in turn made him even more anxious that he wouldn't be able to do his job correctly due to the pain. It was the most vicious of cycles, temporarily interrupted from time to time by a cigarette.  
He didn't smoke a lot. Just when he was going through a bad patch. Newton had said that the tobacco would kill him. He was pretty sure that his body would give out first.

His temper had been shorter these days, mostly due to the pain, and he had taken out a lot of it on Newton, causing the weird electricity between them to rise up to levels even higher than usual. By now, the pianist had obviously noticed that something was wrong. His brash behaviour had been unusually subdued for the past few days. Still, his worry about Hermann meant that he was less focused on his piano playing, which definitely wouldn't do. Newt was the one who held the whole melody together. If he got distracted, the whole performance was doomed to fail. His reputation would probably get out of the ordeal unscathed, but that wasn't the case for the other musicians, and certainly not for Hermann, who, while applauded for his youthful talent already, was far from out of his father's shadow.

And so Hermann worked. And so Hermann smoked. And so he retreated into himself, trying to translate the rhythm of his heartbeat into a beat strong enough to hold a whole symphony.

And so the day of their opening night came and Hermann stood in front of a silent audience, almost filling the building to the brim. They went to the first two short pieces without a hitch, and then it was time for the final one.

The string section started the melody, echoed by a line of piano that slowly took over. Geiszler was wearing the suit he refused to be seen in anywhere else than on stage, fingers elegantly dancing over the keys of the Bösendorfer.

They went through the first movement without any noticeable problem and Hermann finally relaxed. The pain in his leg was bearable, more than he had expected. They started the second movement, and Hermann held his breath as they reached the twenty-first bar. Geiszler's staccati stayed perfectly regular throughout the whole of it, making the melody almost disappear before it was picked up in the wind section and then once again by the piano.

Then someone went off-beat at the start of the third movement, and Geiszler followed, and Hermann's whole body tensed until... Geiszler striked an additional chord, one that wasn't supposed to be in the score, then picked up the original melody again, putting more emotion into it than he ever had in rehearsals. The rest of the orchestra managed to follow him and Hermann let out a breath, diving head first into the music again. He didn't care about his leg and hip. The sound was there to carry him. He knew what he had to do. All of his body was thrown into the symphony, he became part of the melody, he became an instrument, or even just one note. The only thing he knew was that he belonged, and that it was beautiful.

Even the silence that followed the music felt like part of him, an extension of his breathing now fast and shallow. His eyes had closed and he opened them again to applause that felt thunderous. He felt himself grinning and all the musicians mirrored him. They went through the end-of-show routine, saluted, and the curtain closed again. A smile was still tugging at Hermann's lips and adrenaline was rushing through his body as he packed up. A few musicians even came to congratulate him, and he thanked them before doing the same.

He watched everyone leave the stage, basking in the afterglow and the silence a little. He crossed gaze with Newton, who gave him a thumbs up. Hermann smiled good-naturedly at that, which Newton apparently took as invitation to come closer.

The pianist grinned, looking up at Hermann. « That was awesome du- eep ! »

His sentence was interrupted by what the shorter man would absolutely deny to be a high-pitched squeal as Hermann took hold of his impossibly thin tie and brought him closer so that their lips would meet.

From what Hermann could hear, a few of the musicians still in the room were quite surprised by this turn of event, but the conductor didn't care. Most of the people who had worked with him and Newton more than once knew about their... routine of some sort. The others would learn to get used to it in the same way.

Hermann could admit that he didn't actually know what drew him to Newton. As a conductor, he admired the man's talent as much as he abhored his attitude, but when the concert was over... Maybe it was the way they understood each other. Understood their respective value. Maybe it was the way their excitement seemed reflected in the others. Maybe it was simpler than that, an endorphin rush pushing them to give in to their instincts. Netwon Geiszler was not an unattractive man. Far from it.  Hermann didn't always appreciate the way he dressed, but the simple dark suit he wore during concerts made him quite dashing, rebellious hair held in place by too much product.

Newton finally caught on with the programm, grabbing a handful of Hermann's jacket and bringing him down slightly to deepen the kiss. After what felt like hours but couldn't have been more than a few minutes, they had to break apart to breathe, and Newton giggled childishly. « Yeah, okay, that was kind of awesome too. »

Hermann smacked him on the head, not hard enough to really hurt, though Newton did let out an affronted « ouch ! ».

« That third movement..., » Hermann started. « You almost messed the whole thing up, » Newton retreated a little, apparently hurt, but Hermann used the hand still wrapped around his tie to keep him close. « But you didn't. And it was brilliant. It was absolutely brilliant. »

Newton rose to his tiptoes and brought his hand to Hermann's face. His fingers were calloused, a sharp contrast to Hermann's soft cheeks, but the conductor didn't really get a lot of time to consider it as his lips once again pressed against the pianist's. Newton nibbled slightly on his lower lip, forcing him to open his mouth as thrills of pleasure shot through Hermann's body. They were sharing the same air now, lips slowly moving against each other.

The first time they had done this, their teeth had almost immediately knocked together. Over the past year, though, they had learned to work together quite well. In all sorts of ways.

Hermann lowered the hand that wasn't holding Newt's tie. Having his fist stuck between their bodies was slightly uncomfortable, but he didn't want to give up the chance to direct Newton however he wanted. Newton moaned softly as Hermann tugged on the tie a bit and simultaneously slid his hand in the pianist's back pocket.

The tension they had built up in rehearsal was finally turning into something else, into a lust that made Hermann feel like his body was on fire.

He tugged on the tie again, softly as to not hurt Newton but firmly enough to indicate in which direction he wanted him to go.

« Let's take this somewhere more private ? »

Newton nodded enthusiastically as Hermann grabbed his wrist and led him backstage. Tendo Choi grinned at them as they passed him and Hermann rolled his eyes.

*****  


Newt let himself be pulled away happily, enjoying all the sensations sparring in his body and making his head spin. The dissipating stage fright mixed with that moment of sheer panic he had felt as he had lost the rhythm, following someone else's lead when he should have known better and only followed Hermann, and that sensation mixed with warm lust mixed with excitement mixed with pride mixed with all the emotion he had poured into the music, desperately trying to be good enough to cover up his mistake, desperately trying to make it better, desperately trying to be good.

« I didn't know you liked my tie this much, » he said with a grin as Hermann fumbled to get the door to a practice room open.

The conductor sent him a sharp look. « That piece of cloth is so thin I would rather call it a ribbon than a tie. And while it is far more agreeable than a lot of your clothing choices, I would still much appreciate to take it off. »

« All I heard from that is that you want me to get naked. Which is a perfectly fine plan for me. »

Hermann finally got the door open, and dragged Newt inside behind him. The pianist kicked the door shut, wincing at the sound it made. He didn't get a lot of time to regret his decision though, as Hermann pushed him against the aforementioned door, kissing him ruthlessly. His hands made their way to Newt's hair, thumbs brushing his temples, and Newt leaned into it with a moan. He liked to be vocal, so what ? His mom was an opera singer, it was to be expected, dude. Still, it made Herman chuckle, so Newt retaliated by slipping the tip of his tongue into the other man's mouth.

His pants felt tight. Oh, so tight. And he wasn't even wearing his skinniest jeans. He had to do something about that.

But Newt was polite, thank you very much, so he did the polite thing and started unbuttoning Hermann's dress pants first. The conductor batted his hand away, letting go of his hair to grab him by the wrist instead. The only furniture in the room was a table and a couple of chairs and Hermann grabbed one of them and stuck it under the door handle, making sure that they had some privacy.

Smart move.

Newt could be smart too. He took advantage of the fact that Hermann was still holding his hand to pull him closer and push him against the table.

« I was promised some nakedness and I've been seriously disappointed on that front until now, » he said, quickly pecking Hermann's lips, teasing. « It's time to do something about that. »

Hermann smiled fondly and rolled his eyes at the same time. « You were the only one who mentioned getting naked, don't blame me for the work of your own hormones. »

Newt smirked and pressed his hand against Hermann's erection through layers of clothing. « Let's talk about your hormones, why don't we ? »

Hermann bit down on his lower lip as he did his best not to react to Newt's teasing. The pianist could work with that. He kept his left hand where it was and reached for the back of Hermann's head, pulling him down for another kiss and enjoying the feel of the man's undercut under his fingers. While Hermann was distracted, he quickly finished opening his zipper and pulled the pants down slightly. The conductor didn't seem to mind it so much, in the end, as he pulled his lips away from the table a bit to give Newt more access. The pianist was thankful for that and quickly broke the kiss. « Hold that thought, » he said, looking down at what he was doing as he pulled Hermann's trousers halfway down his thighs, then started removing his boxers. He smiled as Hermann's erection was finally freed from the remainging clothes and licked his lips as he looked up at Hermann. The other man nodded, pupils dilated and mouth slightly open. Newt first removed the other man's suit jacket then pushed slightly against his hips, forcing him to climb on the table. He put a hand on each of Hermann's thighs and slowly pushed them apart. He dropped to his knees.

« Newt- ah. »

Before he could finish, Newt had licked a stripe up the underside of his dick. He felt Hermann relax above him as he focused on the sensation. Newt pulled back a little.

« Oh, do get on with it now, » Hermann glowered at him. He put a hand in Newt's hair, who happily opened his mouth to take in Hermann's cock. The conductor sighed as Newt slowly went up and down, smearing pre-cum on his tongue and relishing in the acrid taste. He pulled away completely for a second, looking up at Hermann who was staring at him, hair slightly disheveled, a hand behind him as support. He made good use of his other hand and pulled on Newt's hair, sending pinpricks of pain through his body and making him shudder. He gave up the rare and magnificent sight of a relaxed Hermann Gottlieb, and his moan as he went back to sucking Hermann's cock was echoed by the man himself. Oh God Newt desperately needed to get his dick out.

He dropped one hand from Hermann's thighs and started fumbling with his own zipper. Hermann's sighs were coming more regularly now and he seemed to be unable to stop his hips from thrusting slightly into Newt's mouth. The pianist took his cock a little further down his throat as he finally put a hand down his own underwear, pushing his pants out of the way to finally, finally get some relief. Newt started stroking himself in time with his licks around Hermann's cock, slowly pulling away to lick pre-cum from his slit before going back down until pubic hair tickled at his nose. Hermann's thrust became a little more erratic and Newt moaned, tightening the grip he had on his own erection. Hermann reacted by putting a hand in his hair again, stopping him from pulling back.

« Newton..., » Hermann let out in a breath.

The pianist looked up with a grin but kept his mouth on the other man, letting him thrust further in. Hermann's eyes were wide and unfocused. Newt grazed the head of his cock with the barest hint of teeth before taking the whole length of him in his mouth again, and the conductor's whole body shivered. He tugged on Newton's hair, bringing him impossibly closer and Newton moaned.

« Come on, Hermann, » the pianist tried to say without pulling away. Seeing the man like this, completely unrestrained, out of control except for what Newt let him have felt like the best thing in the world. He sped up the strokes of his hand, desperate as the awkward angle prevented him from finding enough friction. « Come on, » he crossed eyes with Hermann again, saw the desperate want in them that made his whole body thrum with happiness, with pride because Hermann wanted him, Hermann came to him as their concerts ended and he was the one who got to see him like this.

Newt closed his eyes and let his mouth go lax as Hermann finally started fucking his mouth in earnest, still holding onto his hair with one hand. Newt relaxed the muscles of his throat, forcing himself not to gag by pure force of will as Hermann thrust and thrust until he twitched and shuddered, coming down Newt's throat. The pianist remembered having to argue for Hermann to let him do this, having to repeat again and again that he trusted Hermann when he said he was clean, that this was something he liked and god if you don't want me to blow you it's fine there's no need to bitch about it. It had definitely been worth it.

Newt's erection was almost painful in his hand, but he still took a moment to admire the view of a post-coital Hermann, to notice the way he was sitting on the very edge of the table, close to falling down. That might have been a little too much effort on his hip, shit, Newt quickly thought. Hermann didn't let him worry for long though, and instead went from stroking his hair – which was still a bit rigid from all the gel he had put in it – to grabbing his tie. Newt was never getting rid of that one.

Hermann pulled him up and into a kiss, and Newt had to put both hands on the table to hold upright, because his legs hurt a bit. The conductor was thorough as he explored Newt's mouth, almost languid, but Newt was getting desperate. He whined into the kiss.

« Shh, » Hermann said with a smile, trailing a hand down the side of Newt's face and across his torso. Newt desperately wished he wasn't still wearing his clothes, so that he could feel the touch on his skin, but he knew it was just too impractical to get completely undressed when they were having sex in the practice room of a concert hall. « Let me take care of you. »

The noise Newt made as Hermann finally – FINALLY – took hold of his cock with his right hand was definitely not high-pitched and embarrassing. Hermann pushed Newt's pants and underwear out of the way as he started to stroke him, curving his wrist just the way Newt liked it. The pianist dropped his head to Hermann's shoulder, where his shirt collar had been pushed aside, freeing a small patch of skin on which he bit down as Hermann sped up his pace, trying to muffle his moans.  
Hermann's other hand settled on his bare ass and pushed him slightly closer.

« You were amazing tonight, Newton, » Hermann whispered, close to his ear. « You were beautiful. »

Newt's face flushed at the praise and he came three stokes later, biting down hard on the conductor's neck to muffle a shout.

He stayed there for a while, gathering his wits again and getting his breathing to slow down. The fact that Hermann was running a hand through his hair, ruining all the effort he had put into keeping it in place, didn't make him want to move more quickly.

« That was nice, » he finally whispered, pulling away and stretching his arms above his head, trousers still open.

« It was, » Hermann agreed. « Now we'd better get away from here before the staff comes to clean the rooms. » He stepped off the table and Newton leaned for a quick last kiss.

They wiped each other clean with tissues, then started getting dressed again, arranging each other's shirts well enough to look acceptably decent. Newt's tie had to be knotted all over again and the pianist did so with a knowing smirk in Hermann's direction. The other man blushed a little, but made no further comment.

They walked out of the room, then out of the concert venue, talking about their respective projects after this set of concerts. All the other musicians had left already, and Newt knew that the few of them who had known Hermann and him for a while would not let the chance to tease him pass by, but he didn't really care.

He and the conductor had a routine.

It worked well enough. Their schedules were both crazy and they were constantly traveling, so a serious relationship with anyone was nearly impossible. Instead they had this. A good work relationship with a few advantages on the side and a good method for stress relief. It was more than Newt could ever have expected. More than enough, really.

Right ?

They didn't kiss as they said goodbye to each other, simply turned in different directions and waved.

« See you tomorrow Hermann ! »

The conductor smiled fondly. « See you soon, Newton. »

And so Newt started walking in the direction of his uncle's apartment, where he was staying as long as he was in Berlin. He hummed under his breath as he walked, the third movement of the last piece they had played stuck in his head. He didn't mind, let his fingers wander over thin air like it was a keyboard. He smiled.


End file.
